


Understanding

by Griddlebone



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4515984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griddlebone/pseuds/Griddlebone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daenerys was a mystery to Drogo, but a mystery well worth understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understanding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boywonder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywonder/gifts).



Khal Drogo never planned for Daenerys Targaryen to be anything more than another conquest, another trophy to add to his already burgeoning wealth. All fragile limbs and delicate features, with that striking silver hair and those luminous violet eyes, she was a prize just for her looks. All eyes were upon her from the moment she entered a room or set foot beneath the open sky.

Illyrio the magister had said during the initial negotiations that she was a princess as well, but Khal Drogo had little use for princesses. A princess born and raised behind city walls was no khaleesi. A princess would die out on the great Jade Sea - and what use was a dead princess?

But when they introduced him to Daenerys, she trembled only slightly under her forced smile and he thought as he gazed upon her that those violet eyes might swallow him up. She held her head high and smiled and smiled. The smile was false, but what lay beneath was true. She was still a city child in her perfumes and silks, however her keepers had tried to hide it, but she had courage.

That night, having exchanged not a single word with his intended bride, Drogo agreed to the marriage.

 

The next day Drogo began his search for a suitable bride-gift. As Khal of Khals, his gift must be unmatched in value and beauty. The task of finding such a gift was not easy, but there was no challenge the Khal of Khals could not surmount. He found his bride-gift among his own herd, in the form of a silver mare as delicate and spirited as his intended wife. The creature seemed almost made for her.

When the day of the wedding finally arrived, Drogo threw himself headlong into the festivities as befitted a great khal, but he was always aware of the girl seated by his side. She was skittish as an untamed mare, but even if he had felt inclined to comfort her, they had next to no words in common. He could not even tell her not to be afraid, but to be fierce and strong as a khaleesi should be.

But when the time came, he could give her his bride-gift. The silver mare suited his silver bride as well as he had thought it would, and more. And Daenerys did not need words to show him just how delighted she was to receive such a gift.

Equally pleased, Drogo lifted her onto the mare's back and let her go. For a moment she clearly did not know what to do. And then she rode.

She was an unsteady rider, inexperienced at best. As she raced through the gathering astride her new mare almost as if she had been born in the saddle, Drogo had half a mind to mount his own horse and give chase. Instead he waited, so he would not frighten her into flight in earnest. His patience was rewarded when she returned to him with fire in her eyes.

For the first time he truly wondered if Daenerys might be more interesting than she seemed.

That night, when the sun had set at last and they had gone off into the grass together to finish the marriage rite beneath the open sky, Drogo did not have to look to his new wife to know just how frightened she was. He could all but feel the fear that emanated from her. She put on an admirable display of bravery for a city girl, but when they left the khalasar behind her fear crept out into the open. When he glanced at her, she seemed pale and fragile in the moonlight, as if she would disappear like smoke on a breeze.

He did not realize his own intentions until he lifted her from her silver mare and felt again just how light and delicate she really was. He had thought to take her quickly and be done with it. But now, seeing the fear in those eyes and the steel behind it, he rethought his plan. He did not want her to hate him.

Away from the khalasar's million watching eyes, he had the luxury of being gentle.

They had all night. He could take his time. He could try with gestures and tone of voice to reassure her that he meant her no harm.

He could wait until she said one of the few words of her language that he knew.

He could wait until she gave permission.

He sat in front of her and looked her in the eyes, waiting for her to calm. Only then did he touch her.

He watched her face as he touched her, gently exploring, getting to know her face and her body as intimately as he knew his own. In those moments, he felt almost snared by this most remarkable girl that he had married. It was a startling and almost unpleasant realization, that he might actually care about Daenerys, but he did not shy away from it. He had never backed away from any challenge.

In the end it was she that guided his hand to her most intimate of places. _Yes_.

 

Once they left Pentos behind, Drogo thought he would lose interest in the pale, silvered waif of a woman that he had married. They had nothing in common. She submitted to his attentions each night, though it was clear she did not enjoy them. She was stiff and saddle sore, obviously suffering from each day's long ride. She was as painfully afraid of stepping out from her brother's shadow as she had ever been.

Daenerys Targaryen was not a khaleesi in anything but name… and yet a part of Drogo wanted to see her fly, fierce and bold as the dragons that had birthed her. He wanted to see what she would do now that she had some freedom and power to call her own. He wanted to see again the flicker of courage that he'd seen so fleetingly in Pentos and on the day of their wedding.

Day by day, the Dothraki Sea made a khaleesi of Daenerys. 

She grew stronger, bolder, more powerful. The changes were small, nearly imperceptible of themselves, but Drogo could see that her sores were healing and that she suffered less from the daily riding. She took to dressing in the Dothraki way, rather than in her city silks that were so unsuited for the heat and sun of the Jade Sea. She took charge of her women and the men of her khas. Her smiles were less forced, and the fear less obvious in her eyes when he approached her.

Later there came a night when, amidst their coupling, she cried out his name in unmistakable pleasure. Drogo could not suppress a smile.

Daenerys had been no khaleesi when they set out across the Dothraki Sea, and still was not, but she might become one yet.

 

It was several nights later that Daenerys first falteringly spoke to him in his own language. She was shy as she welcomed her husband to her tent, seeming ashamed of her city-dweller's accent and afraid of making a mistake. At the same time she was also bold, approaching him and speaking to him before being invited to do so.

Drogo was not a man to show much of his emotions, but it pleased him almost beyond words to hear her speak in the way of his people, rather than that of the foolish city-dwellers. Here was proof that she was becoming khaleesi indeed. And because he wanted to encourage her in this, he grinned and told her exactly how much it pleased him to hear her words.

So pleased, in fact, that he then swept her into his arms, carried her into the great tent, and took her then and there. It wasn't until after they were done that he realized it wasn't just pride and the pleasure of hearing Dothraki words in her voice that had moved him so powerfully. It was hearing _her words_ in a language he understood, without the need for a go-between. 

No longer was the gulf between them so wide as it had been. And from here it would only grow smaller.

From that night on, Drogo's days continued as they always had: he led the khalasar's endless ride across the Jade Sea to Vaes Dothrak. He hunted beasts of all kinds for food and for sport. He led raids on the scattered settlements the khalasar passed.

It was Drogo's nights that had altered forever. Now his nights were filled with Daenerys Targaryen in a way that they never had been before.

She continued to learn Dothraki, and she improved noticeably with each day that passed. Where Drogo would once have taken his pleasure from her and then dropped off to sleep without a second thought, he now found himself making an effort to speak with her each night. At first it was simply to gauge her progress, but he soon realized that he genuinely liked talking to her. 

He was a man of few words, but she did not expect him to speak much and with each word shared she feared him less.

She began to confide in him, candidly sharing her experiences with the khalasar and the wonder she felt at seeing so many new and strange sights. In another woman, her foreigner's accent and city woman's wide-eyed naiveté would have been laughable. In Daenerys, it had the surprising effect of endearing her to him.

By understanding Daenerys, he could see the Dothraki Sea as if for the first time. He could marvel at the size and strength of his khalasar all over again. And he could begin to see just how different the world she came from was from his own.

She told him other things, beyond the Jade Sea, as her grasp of the Dothraki language grew. And these things were glimpses into her most secret heart.

She told him of her childhood and of the heritage that had been stolen from her brother. She told of jewels sold to make ends meet, and moving, moving, moving. Always moving, so that death would not find them. Of iron chairs and red doors, the comforting smell of lemons, baffling ideas so earnestly shared. She spoke of usurpers and vengeance, of assassins only just dodged in the shadows. Her fragile appearance belied the hardships she shared.

That she had survived at all was almost astonishing. He had thought her a child when he married her, and now that they could actually communicate he began to see that he had been nearly right. Daenerys had known very little of the world that night.

But she was learning. And for that he was proud of his wife. She would be a khaleesi to match the Khal of Khals one day.

 

As it turned out, one day arrived sooner than Drogo thought it would.

He had known all along that there was steel beneath that deceptively delicate appearance, or else he would never have bothered to marry her, but he had not thought to see it revealed for some time yet.

In this alone he had misjudged her. Daenerys was no longer content to bide her time and meekly submit to her husband's attentions.

This night she met him at the entrance of her tent and spoke not just to him, but to the entire khalasar in clear, practiced Dothraki.

This time when they coupled, it was beneath the open sky and before the watching eyes of the khalasar.

This time, it was _she_ that rode him.

This time, the power was in _her_ hands.

Daenerys seized the power due her as khaleesi, under the open sky for all to see. And Drogo relished every moment of it; every moment that his wife lived up to the bold, fiery courage she'd been hiding for so long only inflamed him more. In spite of himself, he had come to cherish this woman through their nightly coupling and their brief, stilted conversations. 

Silver haired, delicate Daenerys had stolen his heart as ruthlessly as she now used his body.

He couldn't help himself. When at last the pleasure became unbearable and he climaxed powerfully inside her, her name was on his lips.

 

That night, under the stars, Daenerys became the moon of his life. Drogo was aware that he had fallen quite thoroughly in love with her, but the realization did not trouble him at all.

When he'd married her, it had been out of curiosity as much as a desire for a strong wife and the power she might bring to him and the khalasar. But with each day that passed, she'd slowly won him over. With the proof of her strength and determination still fresh in his memory, Drogo could admit, at least to himself, that he'd come to adore this woman.

She was more than just wife. More than just khaleesi.

And when he finally told her so, in a heartfelt confession that was utterly unlike him, the expression on her face was both earnest and vulnerable. He almost thought she might feel the same way about him. "If I am the moon of your life," she said carefully, making sure to get the words just right, "then you are my Sun and Stars."

The new endearment pleased him more than he could say. He did not have words for the feelings that swarmed within him. Regarding her where she sat beside him, perched atop fine silken pillows and piled blankets, lit on the one side by soft firelight and on the other by pale moonlight that filtered in through the still-open doorway of her tent, his first thought was to take her in his arms and use his body to show her just how pleased he was. 

Perhaps he could convince her to ride him again, as she had on that other night. And then he had another thought. A better thought.

"I wish to learn," he told her.

Those violet eyes darkened slightly, her brow wrinkled just the tiniest bit. She did not understand.

He leaned closer and ran a finger gently over her lips. "Your language," he explained.

Daenerys's smile lit up the night.


End file.
